


Bottom of the bottle.

by mistakenme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:19:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistakenme/pseuds/mistakenme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has battled his feelings for Sam too long. And now that Sam is finally back with his brother after the death of Jess, Dean is feeling guilty and confused about how he's feeling. After a night of heavy drinking is Dean ready to come clean? Just a lot of desperate!dean submissive!dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottom of the bottle.

Someone once said if you drink enough it’ll taste like love. Whoever that was had obviously never been to the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels and could still smell the blood on his hands. Dean Winchester. The Man. The Legend. The self proclaimed disappointment.  
-  
When Dean first thought of finding Sam, the long road down memory lane had made the man ache in ways he couldn’t explain – in ways that kept him awake at night. Finding Sam wasn’t meant to mean the end of his normality or the end of his lover’s life. Jess was a nice girl, probably would have made Sam happier than the life ever could. But no Dean was selfish; Dean needed more, needed Sammy. And so here he sat, in an empty bar without a name as his kid brother fought for sleep through the nightmares Dean couldn’t force away. Dean could protect Sammy from everything, but he couldn’t save him from himself. 

When you develop a habit of blaming yourself, everything is suddenly so obviously your fault it doesn’t matter how much Whiskey and how many women, nothing fills the gap. Not even the realization that your brother is here with you. 

As the bars only waitress with her more-curves-than-a-racetrack- hips that normally would have made Dean growl with desire made her way to stand opposite Dean, something lurched in his stomach. The sweet pang of self damnation. Here was another girl, willing to throw herself on top of Dean for a night of chasing Daddy issues and lust but all Dean could think of was his baby brother in the back of the car they called home. He didn’t want forgettable names and cheap thrills, he wanted Sam. That’s really what led Dean to Stanford all along. The day Sam left; he didn’t just leave the hunting life and the family name. Sam had left Dean. That night still hung heavy like a storm over Dean’s head, and the only way for the clear to come was another bottle of cheap liquor. 

They say you never know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Dean knew that like the back of his hand. Growing up he had always known he’d take care of Sam. Heck if he was gonna be real with himself he always knew he loved Sam but he didn’t know until he watched Sam slam the door shut and never turn back how he exactly loved Sam. How he wanted Sam.  
The numerous amounts of women Dean had been through, a string of curves and blonde-out-of-the-bottle could only distract Dean from the reality which he faced. He didn’t want anyone under him but Sam. And as Mandy – the waitress who spoke in questions because she thought it was cute – continued to tell Dean what time she got off and where her place was, it clicked. Dean had Sam, even if it wasn’t on the terms he wanted. Even if Sam was almost as broken as Dean believed himself to be. 

“Sweetheart, I bet you’re great and I mean look at you,” – Dean gave the girl a once over to confirm his suspicions that she definitely was too hot to be picking up drunks at the bar she worked in – “But I’ve got someone else – uh I mean – something else to do tonight.” A very thick tongued and blurred vision Dean slurred out hoping it was audible for the poor blonde. 

He walked staggering, his bow legs failing to move as steady as he wanted them to. This was the problem with drinking until you’re numb – you look like someone who’s drinking to be numb. The impala wasn’t too far for a staggering Dean to find, just around the back alley. Plenty of privacy. Dean felt the need to shun himself for the thought, but then he remembered no one ever won without trying – no one ever lost either. And as he stumbled through the thick air, heavy form the rain still beckoning to fall Dean realized that if he could kill a man just because he was the meat suit for a demon than he could man the hell up and do what he’s been wanting to since Sam left for Stanford. 

“You’ve got this. You’re Dean Winchester. Who doesn’t want to have sex with you.” He muttered as the Impala came into view. 

His legs seemed to stop swaying beneath him as purpose drove him forward. His stomach flipped over on itself – perhaps from the alcohol, perhaps from the nerves. Dean Winchester did not know the feeling of nervous all that well but he guessed this was it. The kick in the balls right before a punch in the throat kind of feel. The Impala’s door felt red hot in his hand as he slid the newly oiled hinges forward as if not to wake Sam. His attempt was successful up until he shut the door unintentionally loud. Sam stirred, stretching his long limbs out but not fully waking. Dean swallowed hard and shifted closer to his brother, his vision far too blurry and his blood far too intoxicated. It was in moments like this where Dean’s true nature showed, not the hard strong silent man who killed for a living and kind of enjoyed it – no. But the man who cared more about his younger brothers life than his own, the man who was selfish enough to love Sam like he knew who shouldn’t. 

Dean wished he could blame this all on the copious amount of liquor pumping through every heart beat, but he couldn’t even if he tried. In the pale glow let in through the windshield which was now beginning to speck with rain, Sam looked younger than Dean had remembered. The event of Jess’s death had aged the younger Winchester horribly but at night in the pale blue light, Sam looked innocent again. Dean’s knee rested against Sam’s and he was close enough to smell the scent of Sam’s sweat which stained his shirt from the hunt earlier this week. the poor kid hadn’t even changed shirts once this week. Dean hesitantly lifted his hand to Sam’s face, moving his shaggy hair back off his face. Like a child discovering the world, Dean’s eyes widened as Sam awoke.  
“Dean?” Sam slurred, sleep still coating his tongue. “What are yo…” With fire in his chest Dean leaned forward far too quickly for his head to cope with and he pressed his lips to Sam’s. Dean felt Sam freeze beneath him, and just as quick as it began Sam ended it shoving his brother back with such force Dean hit the driver’s side door.  
“What the fuck are you doing!” Sam wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. The pure disgust burned in his stare to the point Dean couldn’t even look his brother in the eye. Dean pushed himself upright again and inched forward. Sam sat frozen in shock staring at his older brother. Dean’s hand rested again on Sam, even when Sam flinched at his touch, he didn’t move away, he moved closer.

“Sammy, please.” 

Dean’s eyes swam in an equal balance of alcohol and salt water.  
“I… I need you. It’s like… you know… you never know… and then you were just gone. Four whole fucking years. You left Sammy… you left me… and I just… I never noticed… I needed you Sam… I still need you.” Dean’s words fell out of his mouth in a tumble of missing words and long pauses.  
Dean had planned this a whole lot differently, firstly he expected to be sober when confessing his forbidden desire for his brother. Also he had expected t be a man about instead of crying. But here he was, inside a bottle of whiskey with his hands around his brother’s neck. And then he broke, tears cascading down his soft face down towards his trembling lips. Dean Winchester may appear strong but deep inside Dean knew he was weak, knew he was nothing.  
Sam turned his head away from his crumbling brother. There were two possible things happening right now, either Dean was as drunk as physically possible or Dean was possessed. Both were plausible, and Sam wanted to believe in possession but hoped for the former. It rattled Sam to even think that maybe he was comfortable with Dean pressed up against him, maybe he liked where Dean’s hands hung around his neck. But no, it couldn’t be like that, Sam was sworn to Jess. Even if she was six feet under. 

“Sammy?”

Sam turned back to a heavy set of green eyes staring widely. The knot in Sam’s throat swelled as he pushed Dean back softer this time, his hand knotting in Dean’s hair damp from the now steadily falling rain. This time, when Sam’s lips met Dean’s it wasn’t weak and desperate, it was with more force than either brother had expected.

Dean’s lips pushed against Sam’s, forcing them to open slightly, allowing Dean’s tongue to slip in against Sam’s. Sam met the taste of whisky on Dean’s tongue with a growl. Sam wasn’t a heavy drinker and the taste surprised him, but it drove him crazy, made him thirsty. Dean finally caught on – this was not going to be like he imagined, this wasn’t going to be soft and easy. This was going to be a rough and hot. A fight for dominance. Sam’s large hand gripped Dean’s thigh, pulling him closer, hitching his knee under the weight of the shorter Winchester, pulling Dean on top of him. Dean obeyed and pushed himself forward to straddle Sam. His head spun from intoxication of a different sort as his hands gripped Sam’s hair as Sam’s tongue danced against his own. Sam felt the hunger inside of him he’d been missing since Jess awake and roar, his muscles tensing under Dean’s straddle – every muscle. His lips moved from Dean’s, tracing along Dean’s jaw line across three day old stubble and down his neck. His tongue lingering, drawing circles against his brother’s neck, teasing him until he felt Dean harden. Dean moaned, his hands pulling at Sam’s button down plaid until finally it gave in, buttons popping. Although the younger Winchester has been out of the life for a while now, his body still resembled a hunter. All brawn. Dean’s hands traced every line and curve of Sam’s warm chest, his hands inching towards Sam’s belt. 

Well you can’t kill a man for trying. 

Dean’s fingers dragged along the waist band of Sam’s underwear, testing. When you think about fucking your brother, just to get you through the day – you never actually think about how the hell you do it. Dean’s hand fought loose Sam’s belt, his hand slipping into his brother’s underwear.  
“That’s my boy.” Dean mumble as his hand gripped the base of Sam’s cock which twitched at the touch. Dean ran his hand along the length of his brother’s cock, slowly at first, drawing circles with his thumb. His other hand gripped Sam around the neck, pulling his head up to where their lips met in the middle. As pathetic as Dean felt, he was almost proud of the size of his brother’s cock. Surely he should have been able to guess with the kids height that he was gonna be up against something bigger than he had imagined. Sam thrusted into Dean’s hold, begging him to move faster. Again Dean obliged, but not quick enough. Sam was hungry and he wasn’t going to wait for his brother to realize this was happening. 

Sam pushed Dean back off him. He moved Dean’s opposite leg first, flipping him onto his stomach where he landed on the Impalas upholstery. There was little room for movement, and Sam was growing impatient. If Dean wanted this, then he was going to get it on Sam’s terms.  
Dean looked back over his shoulder, still seeing through fogged vision. He had never seen Sam like this, but part of him liked it. This heat driven dominance looked good on Sam. Sam stroked the length of his own erection once before moving his jeans down lower to allow him to move. He moved both hands along the sides of Dean’s torso, pushing his rain specked shirt up over his shoulder. Dean followed by example, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it over the back of the seat where it fell to the floor. Sam ran his hands down Dean’s back around his hips and to the front of Dean’s jeans. He pulled at Dean’s buttons until they came loose. Sam tugged on Dean’s jeans one handed now, his other hand returning to himself, rubbing hard and faster now. Once Dean’s jeans were low at his knees, Sam reached around his brothers hips. His lips twitched at the corners when he felt how hard Dean was now. Sam teased, his fingers rubbing circles on the tip of Dean’s cock until he saw his brother’s shoulders dip and shudder.  
“Sammy please.” Dean moaned but Sam wasn’t done teasing yet. Sam lent forward. His bare torso touching Dean’s back as he trailed kisses along his brother’s spine. Sam only stopped to spread Dean open. His tongue slipped down the slit, drawing small quick circles against Dean’s rim. Dean’s eyes shut, his jaw falling open in quick short breaths. He wanted Sam now, so much it ached in the pit of his stomach. His hand gripped around Sam’s, forcing him to move faster along Dean’s length.  
Sam pulled his tongue back and released his grip on Dean’s cock completely sitting back. Dean turned back over his shoulder, eyes wide – scared that this was all he was going to get.  
“Sammy?” Dean’s eyes questioned. Sam’s lips spread open in a vicious smile, almost threatening to the point Dean’s heart began to pump faster and harder than it already was.  
“Oh don’t give me that. We haven’t even started.” Sam growled. Sam lent forward again, this time taking Dean by the throat with one hand. With the other, rubbed Dean’s rim softly before slipping one finger in. Dean bit down on his bottom lip at the feeling but before he could even process the sensation, Sam slipped in another finger until three of his fingers were inside Dean. Dean knew this was going to hurt, but one man’s pain is another man’s pleasure. Sam removed his fingers one by one. He dragged the head of his cock against Dean’s rim – teasing one more time before he finally entered Dean. Still holding Dean by the neck Sam rocked his hips forward and back, his grip tightening on his brother’s airway. Sam knew this was wrong, but he had no intentions of being right. With one hand around his neck, Sam let the other hand find its way back to Dean’s cock. Starting at the base he moved slowly in time with his hips, rocking back and forth. Dean let a soft low moan escape his lips. 

“Harder. Sammy. Harder.” Dean choked out from under Sam’s grip. Sam obeyed, forcing himself deeper inside his brother, with greater force. As he sped up, so did his hand around Dean’s length. Pulling back so only the tip was inside Dean made Sam grunt, moving his and around the grip tightly onto Dean’s hair. Dean had expected the pain; in fact he welcomed it, as Sam’s hips slammed harder against him. His hands curled around the edge of the Impala’s seat, nails digging into the leather. His head spun and his body began to warm, tingle with heat. He knew what was coming – he was cumming.  
With an uncountable amount of woman under his belt Dean had picked up a few tricks on restraint but never had he felt like this. His body was warm all over, tingling anywhere Sam was touching him. And as his brother slammed deeper and deeper inside Dean’s voice shook as he tried to speak but was drowned out by a low grunt rumbling from behind him.  
“You ready?” Sam puffed pushing harder and faster than before.  
Dean tried to speak but realised he couldn't as the pleasure and the alcohol rendered his tongue completely useless. He forced a nod as any of us would in that position. Sam grinned, gnawing down on his own lip, pounding, thrusting, rocking his hips back and forth. Dean couldn't help himself, his body shuddered, his shoulders arching back and his hips dropping forward. Sam’s head tilted back, his jaw dropping open, and his hips rolled forward one last time. A growl released from his throat and his shoulders fell forward, collapsing on top of his brother. 

And although it may have been the first time either brother had thought about it, it was not going to be the last. For Dean needed Sam, and well Sam wanted Dean.


End file.
